For Once
by Zen Lion
Summary: For once, and only once, Orihara Izaya died a very humane death. A bit of Izaya/Namie in the end.


**Title:** For Once  
**Author:** Zen Lion  
**Rated:** K+  
**Summary:** For once, and only once, Orihara Izaya died a very humane death. A bit of Izaya/Namie in the end.  
**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own DRRR!!.

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**For Once**  
_a __DRRR!!__ fanfic_

- It hurts.

For once, Orihara Izaya visited his family's house back in Ikebukuro. Had dinner with them, even though he didn't eat anything (or rather, he couldn't), saw his sister's happy faces as if tomorrow was going to be a better day, his father's aged features, and his mother's lovely yet sad eyes.

For once, Orihara Izaya accompanied his sisters to slumber. To his surprise, after all these months of not seeing them, the twins removed their double bed from their room and slept on what used to be his room. He had to smile at this—for once, a true smile—and patted their heads like a loving brother would.

For once, he showed his sisters how he genuinely loved them.

- It hurts.

As soon as his sisters fell asleep, he planted a soft kiss on their cheeks. He went out from his—their—bedroom, only to be greeted with a painful smile from his father. They talked—his father asking questions about his daily life, his mother trying to hold back her tears.

A few minutes of silence.

Orihara Izaya put down his glass of water. He smiled bleakly.

"It didn't work; the bone marrow transplant."

His dad muttered something along the lines of 'you didn't have to say that out loud' and 'we knew that already,' while his mom broke into tears and hugged him tightly, unable to let go of her beautiful child. He latched his arms as a respond to the hug, that sorrowful smile still engraved to his pretty face. His dad got up from his seat and pulled the other two into a bigger embrace, his hands on each of their heads.

- It hurts.

Orihara Izaya went out of the Orihara's household, welcomed by the gentle breeze that sent chills down his spine. And the figure of a man:

Heiwajima Shizuo.

- It hurts.

For once, they walked together through the dark pathways of Ikebukuro, illuminated by the city's neon lights.

For once, they managed to talk about 'the old times,' something along the lines of being youthfully stupid, picking fights with each other over every single mistake (even though it was Izaya's pranks, really). There were smiles on both of their faces—somewhat nostalgic, somewhat happy, somewhat sad.

People were looking, wondering why were the two most dangerous men of Ikebukuro were walking together—especially since they constantly fought each other over the last nine years.

But, for once, both of them didn't care.

- It hurts.

The two young men met with another two: one clad in a doctor's suit and the other wearing a hat. The four of them went inside the sushi shop, just like the old times. They all sat on a table, ordered a few slices of sushi.

For once in the past six years, the Raijin quartet were seen eating together. Kishitani Shinra, Kadota Kyouhei, Heiwajima Shizuo, and Orihara Izaya.

They went on and reminisced about their younger days, occasionally laughing at some of the flashbacks. They were happy—or at least on the surface. They all knew there was something tugging inside them: a feeling of uneasiness, turmoil, unrest, anxiety, but mostly pain. Nothing physical, at least to the three, excluding Izaya. But it indeed felt like a dagger went through their hearts.

Shinra decided to throw the joyous facade behind them and asked Izaya why he's not eating. He already knew why, but he just wanted to direct this conversation to somewhere along reality, and not some fancy disguise of a happy circle of friends.

Izaya knew that the unlicensed doctor knew, but he answered nonetheless. "I can't. I'll just throw up or end up worse than now."

Shinra, Kadota, and Shizuo all knew the difference in their ex-classmate's appearance. He looked paler, skinnier, and most definitely ill.

The doctor muttered something that indicated a complex medical term of a disease, to which the informant nodded.

- It hurts.

The bright ray of sun seeped from his curtains. He realized it was morning already, but for some reason he knew full well, he couldn't seem to open his eyes. He couldn't speak, couldn't walk, couldn't move.

A knock on his door. A familiar voice in a somewhat endearing tone—something he had never heard before—coming from a woman. She called his name, knocked twice, and then decided to walk in. Her steps getting closer and closer to the man lying on the bed, tangled in white sheets.

She put her palm on his forehead gently, her hand then trailed down to his cheek, her lips planting a soft kiss that barely brushed his. She lifted her head just a bit so she could see the sleeping beauty in front of her.

For once, drops of tears fell from Namie's eyes. He could feel it. He could feel the rain of salty water on his face, could hear the sound of her cries, could hear the constant calling of his name.

For once in that day, a word forced itself out of his burning lungs. "Namie." He said, without opening his eyes, without making any other movement apart from that of his lips.

She cried his name out some more, kissed him some more, even though the half-conscious body beneath her could—and would—never respond. She held his hand, still crying, as he smiled and took his last breath.

For once, and only once, Orihara Izaya died a very humane death.

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**Somehow this turned out to be lighter (and longer) than I thought, LOL. Oh well. Reviews? :)**


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